Jo Clayton - Fire in the Sky

She shook her head. “No. Let’s keep going. If we don’t see sign of them and they haven’t reached Chuta Meredel yet, we can always come back.”

“Not all that much daylight left.”

“If you’re tired, we can trade places.”

“You’ve got the better eye, Scholar. But I don’t feel good about setting down in the dark, not after what we saw.”

“Hm. You’re probably right. Depends on what we find. Let’s move.”

The moon rose shortly after sundown, a gibbous blur behind the clouds, the road narrowed, then disappeared beneath the canopy, and only the bridges over the innumerable creeks kept them on track; it was like the game children played, connecting the dots.

Marrin was flying half-speed now and had the telltales turned on. Animals kept away from the road, so the soft bongs were rare enough for him to send the flikit swooping through the canopy to check them out. They never saw anything, not even one of the mountain ruminants. Aslan kept the binoculars scanning the trees, but it was frustrating. Should Shadith and the two Fior be dead, they could have flown over bodies anywhere and they wouldn’t even know it.

As she searched, Aslan worried. It was the right decision, going ahead. They’d find Shadith if she was still alive and if she was dead, a little delay wouldn’t matter a whole lot. Knowing that didn’t help a whole lot.

“Cutter.” Swearing in Picabralth, Marrin hit the speed slide and sent the flikit curving away from the road in a long sweep.

Aslan pulled the binoculars off her head, smoothed her hair as she scowled at the dark ahead, winced as a line of light cut through the night, the sideflare illuminating what looked to be a tower of some kind; it cut off suddenly and the telltale flared. “Ah! Stunner. Guess who, hm. Take us into the clouds, Marrin. I want to see how many there are out there. With cutters I’d rather not have surprises.”

He nodded and took the flikit higher.

I’m getting good at blind firing. Gods curse them for giving me the practice. Shadith eased up to a window slit, jerked quickly back as a cutter beam struck through it. Good eyes, damn him. Behind her the beam melted gouges in the ceiling, brought down spatters of melted stone which were too far back to touch her. She shut her eyes, felt about for him, lifted the stunner and touched the sensor. The beam dancing up and down the slit blinked out and the lifefire dimmed, so she knew she’d got another. Trouble is, there’s too many of them… She held the charge plate near her eyes, swore softly. The stunner was one issued by University to field studies and had a large reservoir, but getting in here had drawn that reservoir down, which meant sooner than she wanted, she’d have to start using the cutters.

She heard the pellet gun from the room on the other side of the tower, the sound coming oddly doubled through the window and the room’s open door. So they were trying to slip by on the cliffs and Maorgan spotted them. For a moment she wished she could split in three. Getting inside here had saved them for the moment, but they were two defenders facing an attacking force of at least twenty. She thought about the price the Chav spy had put on her head and fought down a surge of anger that blanked out the mindtouch for a moment.

She knelt with eyes closed, brow pressed against the cold stone, calming herself, transmuting the anger into resolve. It wasn’t just the spy, he was only a tool, it was the Chave sitting in their enclave across the sea decreeing her death, stealing the last few years left to her. For an instant the thought amused her, after twenty thousand, getting so het up about a hundred or so. Then she sobered. Well, it was the reason she’d begged Aleytys to find her a body. Now that her ending was always before her, the days, even the hours, were jewels beyond price. Brighter and more glowing. Or they were supposed to be. She considered this moment, sighed. “I’m only alive when I’m about to be dead. Gods, what a… Digby, it looks like you’ve got yourself an agent. If I live through this.”

She set the stunner on the floor and lifted one of the cutters she’d taken from the choreks she’d stunned. Danor had begged for one of them, but there were some things she still wouldn’t do; arming a crazy man with an energy weapon was one of them. Not from exactly altruistic motives, but she was going to have to testify under verifier and she didn’t want that sort of thing popping up.

Slave trading and arms dealing. She closed her eyes, felt four life fires creeping toward the tower. With a soft curse, she dropped the cutter, snatched up the stunner and swept the beam across the line of creepers. She dropped back and felt around with the mind-touch. And swore again. Three-were out, she must have only grazed the fourth because he was crawling away; the tic in the body heat told her that she hadn’t completely missed, got him in a hand or foot, not enough to put him out; but enough to keep him worried for a while. Foot. She giggled, stopped when she heard the strain in the sound. Not so long ago she’d stunned her own foot trying to get away from someone. I hope you feel as weird as I did.

She sighed and gathered, strength for another sweep. She was so tired it was hard to keep-the concentration she needed. The touch would soften, spread out so she couldn’t pinpoint anything, and twice it’d gone dead on her.

At least a dozen still on their feet. If they got close enough that the thickness of the tower walls would protect them as much as it did her and the others, the iron door would keep them out about two minutes, then she and Maorgan would have to try and hold the stairs and the floors weren’t thick enough to stop the cutter beams, not that close…

A loud whine broke through her concentration. She popped her head up for a quick look through the window.

A flikit plunged from the clouds, swept in an arc across the pass and out of sight.

She dropped back onto her knees, leaned her head against the cool stone and pulled together the mind touch for what she hoped would be the last time in a long while. Every life source she touched had the dimmed down dark red glow characteristic of stunning. She shifted, sought out the flikit-and nearly melted with relief. Aslan and Marrin.

She collected the cutters, slipped the stunner into its holdall, and got to her feet. Her whole body aching as if someone had been beating her with wet towels, she crossed the floor, stepping carefully over the still hot spatters of stone melted from the ceiling, stood in the doorway leaning against the jamb. “Maorgan, Danor. It’s over. We’re in the process of being rescued.”

Maorgan came to the door, the pellet gun tucked under his arm. “That flier?”

“Cha oy, the Scholar and her Aide. She must’ve gotten worried when the handcom broke and I couldn’t report.”

“Took her long enough.”

“Probably because she had to talk the Goлs into going against the strictures of the Eolt and giving her the flikit.” She yawned. “Ihoi! I’m tired. Open the door for them, will you?”

“You’re sure?”

“Have I been wrong yet?” There was weary exasperation in her voice and he looked affronted. Too bad.

She yawned again. The light from the oil lantern sitting in the middle of the floor shivered like stirred water. Behind her she could hear the scuff of his boots as he fidgeted, then the series of clumps as he went down the wooden stairs. She lowered herself to the floor, sat leaning against the wall, trying to stay awake until Aslan arrived.

15. Choices

Bean lay in the dark, listening to the rain beat against the roof and walls of the garden shed. First stormy night, the harp said. Kitsek will float over the mesuch fort and drop the weighted sack. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to deal with what it meant. Instead, he played over the dinner scene, savoring the simmering resentments among the Chave leaders. The Ykkuval Hunnar, the MedTech First Muhaseb, the Memur Tryben, the Bursar Genree, the ComTech First Chozmek. All of them scratching at each other like jealous cats.